Tis the Season
by ilovetvalot
Summary: Rossi/Morgan Christmas piece. After the events surrounding the last episode, Dave helps Morgan cope with his anger. Pre-established relationship. Written with prompts provided by SunnyinOregon on Facebook.


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_A special note to my readers...as Christmas draws nearer, so does my husband's return from the war zone in Afghanistan. This said, posts will be slowing DRAMATICALLY after the holiday. Bear with me. Slower updates are expected to last approximately a month. But, real life and a family reconnection will take precedence. I'm sure you all understand. But, take heart, a happy hubby makes an energetic writer._

_And as always, thanks to our readers! Your reviews and alerts make our day and we love hearing from you! We don't own a thing, but we sure wish we did._

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_**Thank you, Sunny in Oregon for the great prompts: Rossi/Morgan (slash) a kiss, shoveling snow, cutting a tree in the forest**_

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**'Tis the Season**

Eyeing the pavement of the sidewalk leading up to his two story colonial, David Rossi shook his head. Who needed a slow blower when you had a six-foot and two-inches pissed off behemoth man armed with a shovel and a bad attitude?

Slowly trudging up the path toward Derek Morgan, Dave sighed. So much for a nice evening spent by the fire, he thought grimly. If the stiff movements of his lover were any indication, this wasn't exactly gonna be the peaceful romantic evening he had planned.

"Hey," Dave called as he drew nearer, knowing better than to startle the man with the potential weapon. "What did that snow ever do to you?" Dave asked, hoping that, if nothing else, he could lighten the other man's current mood.

"It was either attack the snow or attack Hotch," Morgan retorted roughly, slamming his foot against the shovel as he hefted another loosely packed pile off the cement. "Which would you have rathered?" he grunted, flipping the shovel over and dumping the snow on the ground with the precision of a jackhammer.

Sighing as he silently watched the other man work, he admitted that Derek had a right to his anger. But, he could see things from Aaron's perspective, too. And that put him in a hell of a position.

His lover or his best friend?

"Aaron is only trying to do what he thinks is right, Derek," Dave pointed out carefully, taking a step back as the younger man turned suddenly, his gaze hot as it met Dave's.

"Figures you'd take his side," Derek snarled, his fingers tightening against the wooden handle.

"I'm not taking anybody's side," Dave replied, holding up his hands as he met Derek's darkened eyes. "Look, can we go inside and have this conversation? It's cold as balls out here," he suggested calmly.

Slamming the shovel into the frozen ground, Derek shrugged. "Fine. I need to change anyway. You still wanted to get your tree tonight, didn't you?"

Nodding slowly, Dave followed Morgan slowly up the steps, mentally formulating the best course of action for the conversation they needed to have. Closing the door behind them, Dave stomped his feet against the welcome mat, wiping the stray snowflakes off his shoes. "Did you get Strauss where she needed to be?" he asked quietly as he watched the black man move toward the coffee pot.

"Yeah. I got treated to the hundred and one reasons why she hates our unit. Guess which one topped her list. Two fucking words. Aaron Hotchner."

"Erin is always looking for someone else to blame rather than herself," Dave noted, shrugging off his coat and draping it over a kitchen chair. "If it wasn't Hotch, it would be somebody else. Me. You. Doesn't matter. She's never been able to just take responsibility. It's typical addict behavior. You know that."

"Yeah, well, today I happen to agree with her," Derek snapped, slamming a mug against the counter. "Man, I used to think Hotch was one smooth operator...running the team...managing Strauss...whatever. But now, every time I see him, all I can think is that I work for one sneaky bastard. All these fucking secrets...every _one_ of them putting us in danger..."

Leaning back against the sink as he listened to Derek rant, Dave cocked his head. "You wanna be the boss?" he asked easily, keeping his eyes trained on his younger lover's face.

Pausing suddenly, Derek turned his angrily flashing eyes toward Dave. "What?" he snapped. "You think I'm gunning for Hotch's job?"

"I didn't say that," Dave countered as he shook his head, "But, it seems to me like you don't agree with anything Hotch has done since Emily went down. Do you want to do his job? You wanna make the tough calls that have an effect on everybody?"

"That isn't the fucking point," Derek retorted harshly, shaking his head stiffly. "I'm tired of all the fucking lies, Dave."

"Fine," Dave said calmly with a nod. "Do you think you could have handled any of this better? Emily? Strauss? What exactly would you have done differently in his shoes, babe?"

"Fuck," Morgan bit out, swiping his black ski cap off his bald head and hurling it on the countertop with a flick of his wrist. "I don't know," he replied more softly, his lips pressing tightly together. "I don't. I just know there has to be a better way than keeping his agents in the dark ninety percent of the time. Holding information too close to his chest is gonna finally get somebody killed, Rossi. The "it was need to know" bullshit excuse is getting fucking old, man!"

"Okay," Dave acknowledged with a nod. "How would you have done better?" Dave asked reasonably as Morgan collapsed against the wall.

"I don't know," Derek grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'd start by trusting my team," he bit out, glaring at Dave. "I'd have my agents' backs."

"You don't think he does?" Dave queried, raising an inky eyebrow. "He took on Strauss today. A woman that's wanted to end his career at the Bureau since it began, Derek. He did that because he valued your opinion and because it was the right thing to do. Tough choice, but he made it. Do you really think Hotch would have allowed her into the field with us if he suspected she'd put the case or, more importantly, our lives at risk?"

"Not intentionally," Derek admitted grudgingly. "But I do think his priorities have been getting blurred lately, Dave. And I think I've got a right to be concerned about it."

"Undeniably." Dave nodded, slowly crossing the room, his eyes trained on his lover. "But the bottom line," he said softly, "Is that somebody has to be the boss and make the decisions and calls that nobody else would want to make. Unless you're volunteering for the job..."

"I need to think before I jump in his shit," Derek supplied resentfully.

"Something like that," Dave agreed gently. "You had his job for a few months, Derek. You, better than anybody else, know that it ain't as easy as it looks. Somebody is constantly breathing down his neck...looking over his shoulder for a mistake. Especially now after this shit storm with Emily. He's walking on eggshells. It's not an excuse, I know. But, he's justifiably hesitant to go throwing all his cards on the table. With Strauss...what if that bureaucrat heading that goddamn Congressional committee against us got a hold of the information that the fucking Section Chief was on the sauce? He'd pull funding so fast our heads would spin. It goes to your credit that Aaron chose to include you in this mess with Erin. It shows how much he trusts you."

"I guess," Derek muttered reluctantly, silently acknowledging that the older man made a good point. He didn't like it. But he was intelligent enough to see the wisdom in Dave's words in spite of his anger.

Smiling faintly as he watched the irritations slowly fade from the other man's eyes, "Besides, you're the expert on Christmas around this house. Isn't this the season of forgiveness and all that bullshit? Love your fellow man and all that crap?"

Lips twitching, Derek snorted. "Yeah, I guess. 'Tis the fucking season. But you better be prepared to love this fellow man all night long if I'm gonna extend the hand of forgiveness toward Hotch one more time," he warned pointedly.

Eyes glimmering, Dave leaned forward to claim his lover's lips for a long, lingering kiss. "I think I can do that," he murmured, his low words holding a dark promise. Pulling back, Dave nodded toward the door. "Go get changed if you really want that tree."

Derek shrugged, moving around Dave. "Not Christmas without one."

"Oh, and Derek?" Dave called as the younger man reached the stairs. "I'll be wielding the axe tonight."

Derek grinned over his shoulder, his amusement evident. "In the forest or in bed?"

"Take your pick," Dave shot back quickly, relieved to hear Morgan's deep laugh as he ascended the stairs.

Sighing heavily as the other man disappeared from view, Dave shook his head wearily.

One more crisis averted.

For the moment, at least.

He only wondered how many more miracles he could pull out of thin air. But, after all, miracles were part of the holiday season, weren't they?

**Finis**

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**So, what do you think, guys?**


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